I ran into a situation the other day that has had me thinking. So let me start with some background that applies to this situation in every way. Plus it is time I spoke a bit more about this aspect of my life.

Promises hold a profound significance in my life; they are the bedrock of my integrity and identity. Even when faced with immense pressure to break a seemingly small promise, I stand firmly by my word, for it is my bond. Let me take you through a reflection that has inspired a short story, sharing the journey of my unique living situation and the trials that have shaped this unwavering resolve.

My living situation has been anything but ordinary. My roommate and I once shared a relationship, which, over time, evolved into a tumultuous ordeal. As the relationship deteriorated, I was on the brink of leaving when I discovered I was pregnant. The news did not bring relief; instead, it exacerbated our troubles. Despite the escalating abuse, I chose to stay because my pregnancy was high-risk, and I desperately needed the support he provided, despite its toxic nature.

After our daughter was born, there was a fleeting period of calm. However, this peace was short-lived as chaos resurfaced. When our daughter fell gravely ill, my life shifted to the hospital, only returning home for brief respites. The severity of her condition was overwhelming, and the thought of her passing away loomed over us daily. During this precarious time, we decided that separating would be detrimental to her well-being. Our daughter’s dire health necessitated our united front, a decision that proved to be the right one.

As her health began to show signs of improvement, I collaborated with a social worker to escape the hostile environment. I was terrified of what lay ahead, especially if we succeeded in finding a bone marrow donor and navigating the myriad medical challenges she faced. Tragically, we never found that donor, and our beloved daughter passed away. Her death brought a profound silence, and in our mourning, we found a semblance of peace, needing each other to cope with the insurmountable loss.

Our relationship could not withstand the strain of our grief. The loss of a child often creates an unbridgeable chasm, and ours was no exception. Despite this, we continued to support each other through the pain, even years later. By then, I was on disability, and the situation at home had deteriorated to the point of police involvement. Unfortunately, the outcomes were never as they should have been, leaving me with suspicions I will save for another time.

In my quest for independence, I struggled to find a safe way out, wary of the countless horror stories of roommates that haunted my thoughts. Then Covid hit, with my medical issues I had to put my search on hold. Being trapped with him was a nightmare, however we at least had an agreement in place about seeing others. One big rule was to never bring another into the home, to keep it a sanctuary. We both gave our promise in this regard to the other.

Things were getting to a dangerous level of abuse, well more than they already had been. Eventually it got to the point it would take days, sometimes even weeks to get me to react to his bs. One day when I gave in, he kept pushing in some nasty ways. I was pushed so hard that I was in a full-on overload meltdown but unable to sleep like normal he kept pushing. This did eventually lead to that stereotype meltdown in a way. I took a swing. I learned I have a wicked right hook to say the least even though I had never punched someone before in my life. This was a few years ago.

Ever since then there has been peace between us as roommates. We make good roommates because of the past we shared. We actually get along as roommates, though he does try to gaslight still. Yet the way I grew up made it hard once I figured this out for it to bother me much if at all. He can no longer get a rise out of me.

It is not an ideal situation, yet there are far worse roommates. I mainly hide out in my room and do my best to avoid him. Yet after over a decade I have learned him pretty well and how to spot his moods and either mitigate them or just avoid them. My room is my sanctuary yet it is also for the most part my home. I venture out to care for the pets, use the bathroom and kitchen. Rarely do I spend time in the living room besides when I am going outside. Again not ideal yet there is worse to be had out there. Plus there was another factor keeping me here now.

My financial situation under government disability is dire, allowing me just enough to subsist. I am fortunate to manage one meal a day, heavily relying on Boost, a meal replacement drink covered by disability drug coverage. This paradox makes little sense to me, as it would be more economical to receive enough funds to live healthily, rather than merely existing or surviving. This financial strain exacerbates my medical issues, leaving me with no means to save up for a move. Without a recent altercation warranting police involvement, I cannot access additional disability support or many other available resources. Inflation further complicates matters, making it impossible to find a place without the uncertainty of an unknown roommate. The adage “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t” is especially poignant in my situation.

At one point, I planned to move in with a man I was seeing, alternating between two weeks in his city and two weeks in my current predicament. The logistical challenges of my medical needs and the ongoing legal battle related to my accident made this arrangement necessary. Tragically, he passed away before the move could happen. However, he had been in the military, and his comrades have a reputation for being protective of the women left behind. Coincidentally, my roommate’s best friend is one of those comrades. This connection, along with other factors, contributes to my safety here. Despite the oddity of my living situation, it has its silver linings. If I’m having significant balance issues, my roommate can assist me in the shower without the discomfort that would typically accompany such help from another person. These unconventional aspects of our arrangement are normal for us, given our history. Most men I’ve considered dating have understood and accepted this dynamic from the outset.

Honor is a principle that forms the cornerstone of my personal values, guiding me through the complexities and challenges of life. It is not merely a word, but a profound commitment to integrity, respect, and trustworthiness. This commitment has been ingrained in me through the teachings of the Seven Grandfathers on the rez, where each teaching enhances one’s character and personal growth.

In the midst of a chaotic living situation, I have maintained a strict adherence to promises made, especially those concerning my roommate. Despite the tumultuous history we share, and the abuse endured, I have respected the boundaries we set together. One essential agreement is to never bring others into our home who have not been here before or who we are seeing, even if they are friends wanting to hang out. This promise is significant as it preserves the peace and ensures that our sanctuary remains undisturbed.

The respect I hold for my roommate, despite our strained relationship, and the respect I hold for myself, necessitate honor in keeping this promise. Breaking it would not only disrupt the fragile peace we have established but also compromise my integrity. When my friend insists on coming over, arguing that I need social interactions, I remind myself of the importance of the promise made. Honor dictates that I must adhere to this agreement, as breaking it without a compelling reason would undermine the trust and respect essential for any relationship.

Even a seemingly minor promise holds the potential for significant consequences. Breaking it could lead to rationalizing further breaches, a slippery slope that erodes one’s integrity and trustworthiness. Additionally, breaking a promise to someone who has wronged me would be sinking to their level, which I refuse to do. It is crucial to uphold even small promises to avoid the gradual decline into dishonor and unreliability. My honor is vital not only for my self-respect but also for the trust others place in me.

Honor is intertwined with the teachings of the Seven Grandfathers, each reinforcing the importance of living a principled life. For me, honor is the easiest to embody, being a personal value that defines my interactions and relationships. It ensures that trust is built and maintained, allowing for healthy and meaningful connections with others.

Trust cannot exist without the certainty that one will honor their word. This principle is vital for working relationships and interactions, forming the foundation of mutual respect and reliability. By upholding my promises, I reinforce the trust others have in me and remain true to myself.

While the temptation to break a promise may arise, particularly under pressure from friends or external circumstances, the commitment to honor must prevail. A significant example is when one is dating someone and desires to spend time together, such as watching a movie. This can make it challenging to adhere to promises. However, breaking a known promise sends a message to the romantic interest that they cannot trust me, which could ultimately lead to the end of the relationship. Honor is not just a word; it embodies my core values and serves as the guiding principle that ensures I remain trustworthy and faithful to my commitments. By adhering to promises, regardless of their magnitude, I uphold the integrity that defines my character and strengthen the bonds of trust with those around me.

An eagle feather holds profound spiritual significance for Plains Cree people. The eagle, as the highest flying bird, is believed to soar closest to the Creator, bridging the physical and spiritual worlds. Its feathers symbolize a connection to the divine, embodying strength, truth, honor, and sacred teachings. When you make a promise while holding an eagle feather, it signifies the utmost sincerity and commitment. It’s not just a promise to the person in front of you—it’s a promise made in the presence of the Creator and the spiritual ideals the eagle represents. It’s like saying, “I commit to this promise with the highest level of truth and respect, as high as the eagle soars.” Breaking such a promise would dishonor the sacredness of the feather and what it stands for.
So when I make a promise, whether that eagle feather is truly in my hand or not, in my mind, in my heart, it is there in my hand. Even the smallest promise to me is sacred, no matter how tempting it may be to break it. Breaking a promise feels as though I’ve let the sacred feather fall from my hand and shatter something inside me. Even when the feather isn’t physically there, in my heart and mind, it always is. To break my word would tear at me, leaving a pain that would linger, because it would mean disrespecting not only the promise itself but also the honor that has carried me through so much in my life. It would feel like dishonoring who I am, the values I hold dear, and the strength I’ve built through those teachings. For me, every promise is sacred, and to break one would be to lose a piece of myself.

So for me, there is quite the meaning behind my promises when I have given them, and what happens when I break them. For me there are very few reasons to break a promise. In the situation here, I would break it only if my safety was at risk. Which does not apply just to have a movie night cuddled up with a friend.

What are your views on promises and honor? When do you think it is ok to break a promise given? I would love to hear your views on promises and honor.

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